


Daddy Daycare

by acrimonyofkings



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Daycare, Daycare, F/M, Parent Petyr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:16:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3547406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrimonyofkings/pseuds/acrimonyofkings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being married to Lysa whilst taking care of Robin is no walk in the park. Petyr Baelish begins almost every day with a battle about school, and now battles about summer camp. What could happen when one of the camp counselors turns out to be the ex-love of his life's daughter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright children, I'm starting a new story. F**k it, am I right? I really like this AU and I've wanted to write it for a while, because domestic Petyr is fascinating to explore. Anyway, it's currently 5:39 AM and I've been writing the first chapter for about two hours. Do the math. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and don't forget to like and comment if I should continue! XOXO -J

Petyr awoke with a start by his 7:30 alarm clock. Work didn’t start until nine, though. Why was he up? He looked to his left to his sleeping wife, snoring as peacefully as she could. Robin, Petyr thought with anguish. It was time for daycare, especially approved by Lysa, to care for the little gremlin he called a stepson for the day. After a few bleats of the alarm clocks sound, Lysa awoke, turning to Petyr sharply.

“Turn that off, Petyr!” she whispered angrily. “I want Robin to rise to the soothing sound of his mother’s voice rather than that monstrous chirp.” The woman sat up in bed and collected herself after the man had paused the device resting on the side table. Heading out the door after grabbing her robe, she requested breakfast ever-so-nicely, by simply demanding it. Petyr glared after her.

After his daily contemplation of continuing living his life, Petyr set off towards his closet, picking out the least horrible suit of the bunch, for the rest were at the cleaners. As Lysa allows, Petyr gets his dry cleaning done at only the specified places of her choosing, with the ugliest clerks and the manliest assistants. That is, if he decides to cheat on her with the dry cleaner. God only knows why that would happen.

He settled with the gray suit and the navy dress shirt as he pinned his signature mockingbird pin on his lapel. Petyr figured he ought to look decent to show the poor workers at the daycare that he wasn’t nuts. He contemplated letting them know what they were getting into when he got there. Continuing out the door, Petyr checked his watch. He had twenty minutes to get Robin out the door to make it in time, ten if he wanted to make it to work on time.

Instead of bothering with making Robin’s normal ‘four course breakfast’ as Petyr liked to call it in his mind, he opted for pouring a bowl of cereal instead with a glass of orange juice. He placed it on the marble island, hoping not to create a scene. As it goes to show, that might not have been his best way not to make a scene. Robin entered through the hallway leading to the kitchen and was already on Petyr’s case.

“What’s that?” Robin asked with a child-like curiosity. This was only the first battle to fight: that of ignorance. Petyr already started rubbing his temple with his watched hand, eyes closing slowly, and responded as happily as he could without sounding like he was in a rush, which he was.

“It’s your breakfast, Robin,” the man said with a small mustered smile. Wrong answer.

“But mother always has the breakfast I like ready by now; four blueberry pancakes and the good bacon and the scrambled eggs,” the boy challenged, growing irritated.

Petyr smiled wider. “But your mother requested that I have breakfast ready with enough time to get you to daycare, Robin. This is what I could do with such short time.” He looked down and gauged the boy’s reaction, determining his comeback. Petyr could vaguely hear the shower running down the hall, hoping the screaming boy wouldn’t disturb the other problem in the house.

Just as Petyr had anticipated, Robin screamed at the man. “BUT MOMMY ALWAYS MAKES BREAKFAST. I WANT MY PANCAKES. YOU’RE STUPID FOR NOT HAVING ENOUGH TIME.”

Petyr once again shut his eyes, knowing that the shower had shut off due to the instant spike in the boy’s volume. Soon enough, he’d have two screaming people at his throat. Instead of facing his current situation any longer than he had to, Petyr stood up straighter from where he’d been resting on the sink and poured himself some coffee. His first day of driving Robin to summer daycare was not off to a good start. Robin continued screaming for the few minutes longer as Petyr checked his watch now and again. Lysa entered almost jogging from the hallway, her hair up and wrapped in a towel.

“Petyr! What are you doing to Robin?!” Lysa was quick to accuse Petyr. Par usual.

“You asked me to make the boy breakfast, and I made breakfast. Now I’m being lambasted by my loving family,” Petyr replied coolly.

“I thought I told you Robin doesn’t eat cereal! Too much dairy makes his stomach upset. Isn’t that right, baby?” Lysa petted her son’s head and Petyr looked up in frustration.

“Lysa, I need to get to a meeting this morning, I would’ve liked for him to have his preferred breakfast ready, but there was simply no time,” Petyr lied through his teeth. He couldn’t give two shits what the kid ate for breakfast.

Lysa straightened her stance and frowned. “So you’re telling me, Petyr, that you’d rather see my son starve just to get to one of your silly meetings?” Venom dripped with every word she spoke.

Petyr smiled as if they were the model family in fucking suburbia. “Of course not, dear. I only want the best for my sweet son. Tell you what, I’ll gladly pour this shoddy excuse for a breakfast down the drain, and I’ll promise the both of you that they’ll have breakfast at the daycare.”

This proved to work on the both of them. Robin looked ecstatic, running to his room to get his backpack. Lysa smiled for the first time that morning. “Alright, Petyr, I’ll trust you, my sweet husband.” She strode over to the man and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him sloppily on the lips letting him know what her morning breath tasted like.

As soon as Robin reentered the room, Lysa withdrew her hold on her husband. “I hope they have gummy worms!” The boy went on. Petyr finished his coffee with a thin smile consistently playing on his lips.

Robin waited at the door impatiently as Petyr gathered his briefcase and Robin’s lunch, Lysa smothering the boy in kisses and little commands like “don’t talk to strangers” or “have the teachers call me if you don’t like something”. Petyr approached with the inward feeling of disgust he always had looming about his being. Feigning his smile, he opened the door for Robin to rush out of, running to the car.

“Make sure to strap him in real snug to his car seat, and don’t forget to give him his lunch and…” Lysa went on until Petyr knew she was done when she gave him one final sloppy kiss. “Until later when we make sweet love,” Lysa said as seductive as a slug.

Petyr practically bit back tears gaining the momentum to respond. “I’ll be counting the moments, my love.” As he turned around to leave, Lysa gave a slap on the ass. Opting to ignore it, he unlocked the car so Robin could get in, and strapped him into his car seat.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Robin snapped.

“Please, dear Robin, I’m in a hurry and it’d be great if you would stop squirming,” Petyr managed to get out.

“I don’t care! Do it like mother does!”

Frustrated, but only inwardly so, Petyr eventually figured out the intricate way only his mother could buckle the fucking seatbelt. Robin beamed, and Petyr sighed, closing the door and making his way to the driver’s seat.

Getting settled and starting the car, Petyr drove off awaiting the direction of the built in GPS. He knew that the whole breakfast fiasco would happen on some level, so he took the liberty of inputting the directions of the daycare on the GPS the night before.

About twenty minutes from the house was a small daycare called First Knights which hosted children of a variety of ages from the upper class. Younger teens were placed in a camp more ‘their speed’ which had a variety of games and activities like fencing and the pool, and older teens helped with the younger children. Petyr inwardly cringed at the situation he was putting some poor, hapless camp counselor into.

Pulling into the drive, he admired the large building modeled to look like a castle spread out against the trees behind it. There was so much land behind it, as well. He could easily imagine the various pools and activities set up for the sweet seven year old to enjoy…that is if he didn’t get kicked out the first day. ‘He won’t’, Petyr thought. ‘Lysa’s great friends with the god damn owner.’

Petyr parked the car and helped Robin out of the car seat, walking him to the door while holding his hand. The man could’ve sworn if he didn’t, Robin would’ve surely run off somewhere.

They entered the building, Petyr skeptical of why Lysa chose this place above all else. The walls were a pristine light blue with marble columns, a chandelier was hung in the center of the large expanse of white wooded floor in the entrance way, and several archways opened up to various playrooms around the central receptionists desk. The two approached the desk, Robin already complaining about wanting to go in. Petyr ignored him and spoke to the woman at the desk.

The woman was old, in her late 60’s at least, and she spoke kindly.

“Welcome to First Knights! My name is Mrs. Mordane, who do you present as your champion today?”

Petyr smirked at the borderline roleplay this woman was throwing at him. “This is Robin Arryn. Brave as can be, and as just as the lot of them.”

Drawing his attention from the woman to the boy, he noticed Robin picking his nose and wiping it on the desk. The adults shared a look.

“Of course, he’s right here in the computer. We here at First Knights strive to be the best in childhood development and only hire the best camp counselors to care for your, um, blossoming knight.”

“I’m sure you do, thank you. I just have a meeting to get to, otherwise I’d see him off proper, but—“ Petyr was cut off by a flash of red to his right. Attending to a group of children about Robin’s age was a girl so beautiful he had to catch his breath. Trying to retain his composure, he gestured to them as if the group was a part of his previous thought. “Is that Robin’s group now?”

Mrs. Mordane looked down at her notes and nodded while looking up at the slightly deranged looking man. ‘There goes trying to look normal,’ Petyr thought with an almost ragged breath. Raising her eyebrows, she gestures to the group to her left. “That’s Robin’s group with camp counselor Sansa Stark. In my opinion, she’s one of the best here, so I’m sure that your knight will have a fabulous time.”

Petyr was so taken aback to hear the girl’s last name that he steadied himself on the cool counter. Meeting eyes with the man, Sansa made her way over to the small group of people after telling her children to stay put. She smiled and held out her outstretched hand to the man, unknowing of his racing heart.

“Hi, I’m Sansa, I’ll be taking care of Robin.” Sansa was all smiles. She turned to Robin, crouching to his eye level. “Little known fact, Robin: I’m actually your cousin! I’m sure since we’re family that we’ll be having loads of fun together. Your mother especially entrusted me to give you the best summer camp experience you’ve had.”

Petyr smiled lightly at the poor girl’s ignorance, but also wondered how he hadn’t met her yet. Whatever the reason, he knew he’d have to find out later. He was already running late for a meeting, and he couldn’t help but shift a little more to signal the older people there of that.

Sansa took note and smiled. “I can tell you’ve got your day to get to, and I’ll let you get to it. He’ll be in good hands, I swear.”

Petyr just nodded, mouth partially agape. He sure loved the way her lips bent around every syllable. And the way her striking red hair contrasted her porcelain skin. Or perhaps the ridiculous crystal blue persuasions she had below her forehead. ‘They’re lighter than the wall,’ he thought. Composing himself, he knelt down to Robin and tossed his hair.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for your cousin?” Robin nodded enthusiastically. “Good boy. Try not to get into too much trouble, alright? I’ll be back at three.”

The man said a quick goodbye to Mrs. Mordane, and a less quick goodbye to Sansa before turning on his heel towards the rest of his day. ‘What the hell would come of this summer?’ he thought to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one, I'm really digging the vibe I get from this story.

Rushing to his sedan, Petyr unlocked the door and slipped in the driver’s side. Petyr looked again at his watch. He was running late, yes, but some more pressing issues had just arisen with the mundane event of dropping his stepson off at the daycare. His former flame’s daughter worked there? How had Lysa approved of the boy going there for summer camp? Did she finally cave at the thought of having the boy and his cousin meet each other at last? Did she not know she worked there? Either way, he knew for a fact he wouldn’t bring this up to Lysa. Being the opportunist that he is, he decided to make this little scheme he had formulating in his head as drawn out as possible.

Petyr cursed himself as he started the car. How could he do that to his doting wife? To his loving, caring… ‘Aw, fuck it!’ Petyr thought. Stuck in a loveless marriage with a demon child to call his own was no way to live his life. He was forced into this marriage by everyone in town, ever since he was a teenager and in love with Lysa’s older sister. ‘She’s just like Catlyn!’ the people would say. ‘Just as beautiful, too.’ He mentally slapped every person that wished the two together. Fooled into it, half from a good financial decision, half from pity from Lysa’s recently deceased husband.

He arrived at the accounting firm in the city twenty minutes late with a stern look from the president of the company, a Mr. Robert Baratheon. He was leaning on the cubicle with a cup of coffee that Petyr was sure had whiskey in it. Behind him unfolded the expansive wasteland of gray and black cubicles in the dismally dreary office. Even in the relatively new building, because of the depressing state of business of monetary values, the place seemed to be falling apart. Fluorescent lights flickered behind the bull of a man, gray and black beard as unkempt as ever.

“Yer late, Baelish,” the man practically slurred. Petyr was always surprised at the sheer willpower this man must have to get to work despite his perpetually drunken state. Robert made it to work at least once a week, and despite Petyr’s hoping and praying, he arrived late on the only day his boss wasn’t out golfing. Petyr knows he’s the best man in the office, and he was truly shocked at the stones Mr. Baratheon must possess to be on Petyr’s ass about being late one day out of any.

Petyr’s smile etched back onto his face, with the most kiss ass tone he could muster. “Regretfully so. My poor son threw a bit of a fit this morning on his first day of summer daycare. I’m sure you could relate, Mr. Baratheon, what with your beautiful children.”

Robert made a noise in his throat, Petyr thought it sounded agreeing enough. “Yes, children can be like that. Especially the young ones. How old is your boy now, Baelish?”

“The tender age of seven, sir,” Petyr tried sounding upbeat.

Robert looked wistful for a brief moment. “Ah, yes. I remember when my oldest was that age. Joffrey. He threw fits almost every day, I just couldn’t bother with it. Now he’s, whatsit, seventeen and always has his hand down his pants. Remember those days, Petyr?” Robert jested, hitting Petyr on the shoulder.

Petyr smiled and nodded, pretending that sounded anything like him as a teenager. Sometimes he marveled at the stupidity of some. Sometimes he was flabbergasted at the immaturity of others. With Baratheon, he could be both at once. “Yes, sir, as if it was yesterday.”

Robert let out a sigh. “Maybe he’ll be past that stage soon, I don’t know. He has a girlfriend now, whatsername, Sansa?” Petyr stood up straighter. “Sansa Stark, Ned’s girl. Boy, the trouble those two must get into.” Robert let out a hearty laugh. “Alright, Baelish, you’re off the hook. Just try not to let it happen again, alright? I know it won’t, but still. I have a business to run.”

Petyr mentally shooed off Robert’s words, focusing now on the only important thing that mattered to him at that very moment: Sansa. He knew she must’ve had a boyfriend, but he didn’t know how insanely jealous he could get over the girl after barely spending two minutes in her company. Why he was so jealous, he did not know, but what he did know is that he needed to see her again. His deranged, not-quite-formulated-yet plan was already coming to a full stop just because of Robert’s ‘thought-to-be-child’ was probably putting the wood to that poor, innocent girl.

‘Shake it the fuck off, Baelish. Whatever you’re thinking about that Stark girl is most definitely bad news.’ Petyr grabbed his things and retreated to his cubicle, continuing the mental argument he was having with herself. ‘You don’t even know her yet, what if she’s “the one”?’ ‘”The one”? She’s seventeen! Get a fucking hold of yourself, this isn’t high school!’ ‘But she’s twice as beautiful than her mother ever was, she seems nice, maybe I’ll just give it a chance…’ ‘Forget about it. That’s the boss’s right hand man’s daughter, and you’re an idiot if you go for it.’

Assembling his things at his desk, he decided quickly to pretend nothing happened. The logical part of his brain was rarely wrong, and the emotional part was never right; that’s why he’s with Lysa, but still almost at the top of his career. Two people would have to die for him to take over the company, but until that happened, Joffrey would still take it over before him and end up running it into the ground, which his father had already so gracefully set course for. Until that day, however, he still had that little devil on his shoulder that held out hope that both of his superiors would die in a fiery crash, preferably together, so he could so graciously accept the position of CEO without having to form a formally business casual revolution or something along those lines. Usurping forcefully wasn’t what he intended.

The Lannisters were their biggest client during tax season. The big bankers on Wall Street had a lot of ponzi scams to clean up, and Robert so gratefully obliged much to Ned’s chagrin. Robert only wanted to please his wife so her daddy could live the life of luxury he’d set up for himself in his many years of rip-offs. Right or not, Petyr was a part of the clan sworn to secrecy and he’d sooner give his left leg to retain some good graces with Robert so that, just maybe, he would offer Petyr the job sooner than Ned. He could only dream.

Filing the Lannister’s taxes was definitely taxing on Petyr. The strenuous race to find the latest hole to cover up, rip off to hide or scheme to never see the light of day was difficult to say the least. The Lannisters were probably the least organized crime organization in all of the city, and here Petyr was, trying to clean it up.

Not even realizing the passing time, Petyr checked the time. It was the perfect time to clock out so he could go collect his ‘precious boy’. The man closed his laptop, collected his files and put his suit jacket back on that he had taken off due to his semi-strenuous ‘mind-labor’. Running a hand through his hair, he checked his phone for emails he had missed during the day, and found only one pertaining to the Lannister situation. He decided to check on it later at home, exiting out of the office space to the elevators he had arrived on. Finally, he got to his car and made his way out of the city to retrieve his blossoming knight.

After parking, Petyr made his way to the establishment and entered through the stained glass doors. Mrs. Mordane greeted him at the reception desk.  
“Mr. Baelish, nice to see you. Robin was well behaved today! I’ll radio Sansa to bring him out with his things immediately.”

Petyr couldn’t have been more surprised at the good review his stepson had obtained, much less have hidden it on his face. His eyebrows shot up instantaneously as he heard the news. “How marvelous!” Petyr said with a slap on the counter. “What great news.”

Again, the duo exchanged a look, Petyr looking slightly exasperated and relieved. Mrs. Mordane nodded and continued. “Yes, yes, we truly have the finest counselors here. They really know what they’re doing, and I’m sure it helped that Robin is so closely related with our dear Sansa, here.” The woman gestured to her right where the redhead emerged with Robin, toting his empty lunchbox and backpack. The boy ran to Petyr with enthusiasm, jumping into his arms and hugging him tight, Petyr just barely keeping his balance and responding to the sudden shift in weight with a soft ‘ugh’.

“Petyr, Petyr! I had the coolest time today! Me and Sansa built sandcastles in the sandbox and I showed her how to put a death trap in it to make it cool, and I went swimming, and—“

“Wow!” Petyr interrupted. “Why don’t you tell me everything when we get home, alright? Sansa here needs to get back to work, and I don’t wanna keep her here longer than she has to be.” Surprisingly, Robin obliged. Petyr handed him the keys to go unlock the car and sit in it, which means he knew he wouldn’t have much time before the boy drove off.  
Petyr watched him run towards the door with his unsteady seven year old gait, and then turned to Sansa, gesturing her over towards the decorative duvet and mirror combo adorning one side of the grand lobby. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the wad of bills he kept in his pocket held together with a money clip. Pulling out two twenties, he offered the bills to the girl in front of him.

Sansa, taken aback, refused the money at first. “Please, Mr. Baelish. We’re family, I can’t accept payment for a job I get paid for.”

Petyr admired her character for a moment before insisting upon the girl to take the cash. “Please, Sansa, I know how difficult he must be. I live with him.” With that little knowing gesture of confidentiality among the both of them, truly knowing what a terror he was, Sansa accepted the money hesitantly. “You deserve it, Sansa.”

“He really isn’t that bad, and I still feel bad for taking money from my family. Please, I know you need to get back to the car, but if you ever need a babysitter for a night out with Lysa, or whatever it is you need to do, call this number.” Not realizing what was going on, Petyr felt a tickling sensation on his palm as the girl gently grabbed his hand and wrote her cell phone number down in blue ink. “There,” she said signing her name underneath the digits, “now you’ll be able to call me in case of an emergency, if something comes up that you need him taken care of, or anything.” She smiled softly at the semi-stunned man, heart racing again, and almost forgetting he was married to Lysa. Shit, Robin was in his Mercedes.

“I truly appreciate the gesture, Sansa, and I’ll definitely take you up on the offer if the old battle-ax allows.” Petyr smiled as Sansa laughed, exchanging a few second long silence, almost as if the other wanted to say something but didn’t have the courage to.

Breaking the moment, Sansa lurched forward and hugged her ‘by-marriage’ uncle, thanking him for the cash. Not too quick to break the embrace, Petyr took her in the embrace as well. They stood for a few seconds until Sansa broke the bond, gave a small wave and a smile, then retreated back to her work.

Petyr turned and left the building with a borderline heart attack from his most recent encounter. Approaching the sedan, he noticed the boy was already in the back seat, playing with the retractable keys, but also completely calm. Petyr knitted his eyebrows together as he approached the seven year old, holding out his hands for his keys, having them drop neatly into his hand from the boy’s. Petyr’s bewilderment overtook him as he strapped Robin into the backseat, as obedient as never. This was bizarre. “What happened today, Robin? No complaints, no tantrums?”

“Nah,” the boy said fiddling with his hands as his stepfather rested on the car door. “I’m just kinda tired.”

Petyr just stood there for a second, mouth agape, and nodded, closing the door gently. Making his way around the car, Petyr stood outside the car for a second contemplating. He looked at his right palm, relishing the beautiful moment he finally had with his stepson. Well, as beautiful as it got. Maybe Sansa Stark could be more of an advantage than he thought. Petyr thought of this the whole way home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's POV by popular request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't express at this time how sorry I am to keep you waiting. Life got in the way, shit sucks, I can't quite apologize enough. Time just got away from me. Here's a decently long chapter to tide you over until I get back to it tomorrow, which I definitely will. Comment if you have any questions, because this chapter was slapped together in about two hours. I have questions myself lol. Enjoy! XOXO

The redhead waited at the front of the castle to be picked up. Par usual, Joffrey was late, which made her even later home, which made her in far less than good graces with her family. It was about 6 o’clock, and Sansa was going to be late for dinner for the third time this week. “Dinner is the keystone of the arch of a functioning family,” her father would say. She rolled her eyes as she pulled out her phone yet again, checking for any courtesy messages from Joffrey. She didn’t know why she bothered.

Just as she was about to text him with a piece of her mind, up rolled Joffrey Baratheon’s yellow Lamborghini, twenty minutes late. In sat her boyfriend, blonde and lanky as ever before. He was wearing ridiculous looking shades, an ill-fitting snapback, and a gold chain as thick as his—

“Get in, you’re gonna be late,” he yelled over his obscene rap music. She gave him a look as she shoved her phone in her pocket, holding his gaze as she opened the car door and slammed it as she sat down. “Easy!” her boyfriend yelled after turning down the music. “You’re gonna wreck the frame!”

“Fuck your frame,” Sansa bit back after he started driving the long way back to the Stark residence. If looks could kill, the one Joffrey gave to Sansa could’ve gutted her and rolled around in her blood. “Yeah, I said it! This is the third time you’ve been late this week; not to mention all the other times you were late before I started working here. All I want is to be able to rely on you, and I said I could find other means of transportation, but you insisted on driving me. I expected you’d at least be good at what you offered.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t asked me to drive you anywhere in the first place then this would’ve never happened! Maybe if we hadn’t started dating this wouldn’t have happened!” Sansa was hardly shocked that he’d go that far, hell, he’d gone farther before.

Ignoring his last retort, she responded accordingly. “You know I’m not allowed to drive, not after what happened to Bran.”

“But now he’s just a cripple, thanks to your dumbass brother, Robb.”

Now that was low. Sansa simply gapped for a moment, rolled her eyes, and stared out the window for about ten minutes. Even after then, Joffrey became bored and placed his hand on her thigh, low enough not to cause a stir, high enough to get her attention. Sansa ignored the gesture, pulling her leg away, crossing her arms. They were approaching her large country home in the woods now, she didn’t have to spend much longer in the car with him.

Joffrey tried yet again to put his hand on her thigh, swerving the car in the process. He gripped her knee and forced her left leg to the console and slapped his hand back down on her thigh, this time much higher.

Sansa let out a grunt of disgust while muttering. “God, now I know why you wanted to drive me everywhere.” She tried swatting his hand away, but his caught her’s in the process.

“You’re gonna have to cooperate if you wanna get back to your house alive,” Joffrey laughed as the car pulled to the left again. This jolted Sansa as he let go of her hand, placing his hand at the top of her jeans, dipping down underneath denim…

As soon as Joffrey made the turn into her driveway a few moments before he reached second base, she flung open the car door, yelled ‘thanks’ to the wind, and sprinted up the driveway. She didn’t look back to the middle finger seeing her off.

As soon as she heard the car leave, she slowed her pace. Joffrey usually drove her all the way up, but tonight was just uncomfortable. Her driveway was about a quarter mile long with tall oaks lining the asphalt. Sansa thought about the long summers she had spending time with her family before Jon and Robb went off to college, before Bran became wheelchair-ridden, and before Arya and Rickon completely despised her for dating Joffrey. It seemed like her parents were her last hope for friendship—that is, until she arrives mid-meal. Then she’d truly be alone.

Sansa thought about the man who brought her money today. ‘Uncle Petyr’ she repeated in her head. His striking appearance wasn’t hard to forget. His suit so put together, cologne so poignant to her senses and his eyes as grey as a storm on the sea. They bore into her intensely when she first shook his hand. He was a gentle man, beneath the strongly professional demeanor. That she knew.

As for his step-son, Robin definitely took after his mother. He wasn’t cool and collected like Petyr. Sansa’s mother would speak of her, never ill. Catelyn Stark was never one to speak ill of anyone. Sansa noticed that if she did, however, it was always strangely about her aunt. All Sansa knew about her was that she got married a few years ago. Robin was born when she was still in middle school. She never did meet him, not until today. The reason why, still unbeknownst to her, had very little effect in how she handled him today. He was a handful, yes, but nothing a little arts ‘n crafts couldn’t fix. People are always surprised at the tranquilizing effects of some feathers and cardboard.

She winced at the approaching house as it opened up against the trees. A single white sycamore stood proud to its right, the estate as commanding as ever. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, not surprising over dinner. She walked into the garage and up the steps to the main house, closing her eyes as she felt the cool of the doorknob unclick.

Upon entry, as she passed by the kitchen and past the dining room, five eyes bore into her and blocked her further entry to the house.

“Sansa, how nice of you to join us,” her mother’s voice cut through the silence. “Please sit.”

Apprehensive, Sansa took her seat among the few and looked down at her empty plate. ‘Looks like no dinner tonight’ she thought.

“Now we understand that you wanted rides from your boyfriend, Sansa, but you know how seriously we take punctuality in the house,” her mother spoke softly.

“But mom—“ Sansa tried to cut in.

“No buts! Your father and I have settled that this is a three strike process. You’re going to start back up your babysitting job. You have to start being more responsible, and now your weekends are going to be filled up as well.”

“This isn’t fair!” Sansa shook her head in disbelief. She looked around the table for help, but all she got were empty gazes and drifting stares.

“Don’t you talk to me about fair, young lady. You’re going to learn firsthand about how difficult it is to hold down two jobs, as well as punctuality. Now there’s just more pressure. You’re growing up, and it’s time you learned this before you go off to college like your brothers.”

“Well maybe if you’d let me get a license…” Sansa trailed off, forgetting the consequences of that statement before her eyes met Bran’s. That was a mistake.

Her mother interrupted her regretful train of thought. “Go to your room and think about what you just said. Don’t come out until you’ve realized.”

“But I already—“ Catelyn’s glare intensified. Sansa shot an apologetic glance to Bran, which he took very gracefully.

Sansa collected herself and started for upstairs. As soon as she closed her door, she heard the voices pick up again. ‘Who needs them?’ her inner rebel challenged. ‘I don’t need them—I’m fucking eighteen, I’m a fucking adult, I could leave right now’. ‘Shut up, you need them. They’re paying your way through college next year, the only reason you haven’t bailed is because of that, just be thankful’. ‘Thankful?!’ Sansa thought as she kicked off her shoes, slumping on her bed. ‘They’ve held you back from your potential, all because of Bran and Robb’s accident a few years back. You could’ve been independent by now.’

Sansa shut herself up as best she could before starting to come up with some solutions to her current predicament. She thought of all of the neighborhood kids around, as if there was a neighborhood.

Then it hit her. Robin was the key to all of this. Money was well-frequented in Petyr’s household, she assumed, so why doesn’t she just babysit his boy? She’d finally meet her Aunt Lysa, make money and even possibly see Petyr again.

‘What the hell?’ Sansa thought to herself. Petyr was by no means relative in age to her, nor was it appropriate in any way to be thinking about him besides as an asset to her rebellion against her mother. She hugged him to show affection to a relative, wasn't that the way it went? She believed it in some shallow depth of her being. Her mother definitely wouldn’t approve of her frequenting their household, especially if that meant seeing Aunt Lysa. But what about Petyr? She never spoke of him unless in a passing manner, only to announce his marriage to her aunt a few years prior. Until today she’s never seen him in her life, and little did she think that she wouldn’t mind seeing him again. Before Sansa began her escapade into getting more money, she’d have to let this man in on it.

It seemed that Sansa would need his number before her's. Sansa wondered briefly if he’d be reliable to her cause before drifting into a dream-filled slumber. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Petyr’s Mercedes crept into the driveway as he heard the boy’s controlled breathing in the backseat. He turned to face the sleeping being, Robin’s face relaxed and unconscious. Seeing him like this made Petyr almost forget what a terror he was. Almost. He remembered when the boy was younger that all he’d have to do to get him to fall asleep was to strap him into the car before bed and he was out like a light. He’d carry him into his room, tuck him in, and act as if he was his own son. He couldn’t stand that kid, truly, but when he was at this peaceful state, he almost could see himself as a father.

The man winced at his thoughts. ‘Father’ wasn’t really the best way to describe him. He didn’t have much of one growing up, neither did Robin, for that he was sure. Robin’s real father died when he was three. As little as he’d like to admit it, he realized that he had more in common with the little beast than he thought. And even though he despised the demon, he always felt a sense of pride when he remembers he practically pulled the grieving duo out of poverty, swooping in like a guardian angel and starting a life together. Lysa was grateful in the beginning, he’ll give her that. She was doting, sweet, lovable and even though he’d known her for most of his life, he almost believed that Jon’s death had sprung her into some kind of super-wife.

Until all of the drama with Catelyn surfaced again. He must’ve mentioned her in a passing manner, asking if she’d ever visit, an innocent enough question, and suddenly it was as if nothing had changed. She was back to her old self with a vengeance so fierce that Petyr sometimes wondered for his own safety, soured with jealousy. Growing up with the two, he always assumed there was that hidden jealousy or spite that was buried beneath a steady glow of smiles. He’d spend most of his time with the girls growing up, and he was never really good at hiding the bleeding heart on his sleeve when he was younger. Lysa knew that he was in love with her sister. Petyr knew that Lysa knew that he was in love with her sister. He didn’t hide it growing up because he never thought he’d marry Lysa. Everyone egged him on, wanting him to fulfill some sort of charity case because they assumed he was too shallow, too about himself.

‘Well look at me now’, Petyr thought to himself. He remembered when he was doing this to help someone else. Petyr definitely agreed with the mass majority. He was about himself. Admitting that, he felt, made him stronger. Self-aware was always something he wanted to be. Being self-aware in his former whore-house business was no way to get by. He would’ve seen himself for what he was—a shallow, empty shell of a man who had nothing better to do with his life but make money off of the exploitation of women (and some men), which would’ve made him depressed and very wary to go on. He was always surprised at the sheer number of women down on their luck, looking for some cash. They thanked him for taking them in, he never understood why. Taking them in, offering them protection, it seemed like a fair way to run a business. He never stood on a pedestal as some sort of messiah for them, he still made them work. But it was fair, life was easier. About the time when Jon Arryn died, Petyr considering giving up the business anyway. He assumed making some investments would put him in a comfortable home by the sea if he was lucky. Once news rang out about Jon’s death, he was at Lysa’s side almost immediately because it was expected of him. They were married months later, Petyr was secured Jon’s former job through his extensive knowledge on taxes of a business (and how to evade them), and they bought a house fit for the neo-nuclear family that they were. Lysa never even asked about his former employment.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts and getting out of the car, Petyr thought about a way to get the boy up without disturbing him too much. He considered carrying him to the house, but Lysa would have a fit about his delicate back. If he woke him up, it would only mean loss of hearing. Standing outside of the boy’s car door, he was once again stuck with a problem.

As if on cue, Lysa trudged out of the house. She was home from work early. Lysa’s mental health organization was one of the best in the county. Of course it was the only one in the county…

“Darling, you’re home early,” Petyr spoke gingerly. She strode towards him, worry etched in her face. ‘Here we go,’ Petyr thought.

“Why is he still in the car? He could suffocate!” Lysa panicked suddenly, throwing the car door open. Robin was instantly up. Petyr braced himself for a scream, yelling, something, but nothing came. He simply opened his eyes and stretched out his arms and reached for his mother. “Hello my sweet prince, how was your first day of camp?” Lysa asked as she unbuckled and carried him into the house, not even sparing Petyr a backward glance. Petyr just stood there, stunned for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Alone with his thoughts at last, Petyr had a few about Sansa. He thought about her babysitting offer, her porcelain skin, her technique on sedating Robin, and her fiery red hair. His mind was scrambled to say the least. He also wondered about that hug, he thought nothing of it; that was until he felt a jolt of electricity travel through his body when he touched her.

Petyr tried to think about work, Robin, anything else, but it just made its way back to Sansa while he gathered his briefcase from the car. Walking to the house, he thought about her mother. Somehow, she was less appealing. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but he realized then and there that he had just fallen out of love with Catelyn Stark, the woman of his dreams, and the woman he’s loved since adolescence.

Smiling with realization, as if a weight had been miraculously lifted from his back, he opened the front door into his next problem: his infatuation with her daughter.

As much as Petyr tried to convince himself that he didn’t have feelings for his former love’s daughter as he crossed the threshold in his foyer, it proved to be a perilous cause. Somehow he got her out of his mind with the promise of seeing her the next morning.

It was about four o’clock in the afternoon, much too early to have a drink. He all but required one by the time Robin’s bedtime rolled around. His drinking habits used to be far less substantial; however that’s when he didn’t have time to be bored. Now, he’d sit at home, wasting away the few good years that he had left in him on the couch watching the news or being screamed at by Lysa. Petyr took a seat on the couch and began his daily routine.

Petyr must’ve dozed off in the process, because the next thing he knew, it was seven in the evening and Robin was already put to bed. Without a fuss, it’d seem, for he wasn’t awoken. Until he awoke to Lysa on top of him, of course. She was taking long, agonizing tongue strokes against his neck, wetting his ear profusely. His lips pursed together in disgust, for all she knew it was a smile, so she began sucking on his earlobe while whispering to him.

“You know Robin went down without a fuss today? He was such a good boy, that camp really was a marvelous idea.” Lysa dug her knees farther into the couch next to his thighs, giving him less room to move. Her arms were in a vice around his neck, holding his face close to hers.

Petyr feigned a smile. “How lovely.”

Lysa pulled her head to his and frowned in his face. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m tired and you woke me up,” Petyr said as calmly as possible.

Lysa looked at him for a moment, frown still adorned, and said, “What do you say we move this to the bedroom then?” Her frown was replaced by a smirk.

Petyr wretched inwardly. ‘Anything but this,’ he thought. Thinking about his words carefully, Petyr spoke coolly. “I,” he paused, “I don’t think I’m up to it tonight. I’m not feeling well, and all I want to do is sleep.” He was so good at lying it scared him sometimes. Because when he even mentioned he wasn’t feeling well, Lysa was in full ‘mommy mode’ and would go to the absolute ends of the earth to see him better.

As Petyr expected, Lysa was off of him in an instant, preparing hot tea, getting medicine, anything whilst asking what his ailment was. She asked from the kitchen, “What are you feeling, Petyr? Stomachache, headache? Cold? The flu? Constipated?” She rambled on for a few moments before Petyr responded.

“Just a headache, dear. Tea will suffice, thank you.” As much as he disliked her company, he truly admired her dedication to her family. If either of her boys suffered, she suffered 100x more and figured out a way to make it better.

After a while, the adults made their way to their bedroom, Petyr toting his tea. He congratulated himself on the avoidance of their ‘weekly bedding ritual’ and slithered into bed after disrobing thoroughly. Lysa followed, much less gracefully, and slumped down in bed. She was asleep before even saying goodnight, snoring loudly.

Petyr sat up in bed. He thought again about Sansa’s eyes, and became ashamed as he mentally ventured the rest of her body. Petyr looked at his hand. Sansa’s name was smudged a bit, but her cell phone number was perfectly intact. Without thinking, he pulled out his phone and entered the number into his contacts, and saved it, thinking it would make him closer to her in some way.

The man knew he shouldn’t have been feeling this way about Sansa. She was young, innocent, already in a relationship…

He didn’t know why, but he was feeling surprisingly rebellious. Lately, he didn’t know if it was a midlife crisis or boredom, but he was getting fed up with his little piece of the world. That is, until the day Sansa Stark made it tolerable. Not only for her role to play in his dreams, but her complete tolerance of Robin and his strange antics. She handled him like a dream, and it was really a breath of fresh air to know that someone so sweet, so innocent, could tame such a wild child.

It made his heart soar. Petyr Baelish had only known Sansa Stark for a short while, but he was convinced that his newest infatuation would reveal itself to be true love. Crazy, yes, but real all the same. With his newest revelation, he drifted asleep in sweet anticipation for the morning to come.


End file.
